


A Promise Made

by Rest_at_the_Bonfire



Category: Dark Souls III, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, First Try, I can't write combat, I dont know how to get there yet though, I swear this is going somewhere, The Prestige - Freeform, What am I doing, Why did I write combat?, ha ha just kidding this was always the plan, whoops how did we get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28837794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rest_at_the_Bonfire/pseuds/Rest_at_the_Bonfire
Summary: Two roads diverged in the woods, and one of them had a demon on it. They chose the wrong road.Ah, well.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Ashen One/Fire Keeper (Dark Souls)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Live. Die. Repeat.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I am about a decade out of practice when it comes to writing anything, and I thought what better way to knock the rust off than uh, commit to writing a tale of a dying world and a fated task. I am putting it here because if I keep it to myself I won't write more of it but maybe, just maybe, if I put it here I'll keep at it.

She never forgot her first death. She’d gone into the forests with her friend, her friend who was so brave and so full of life and who she would have followed anywhere, in the end. Her friend had told her that there was a shrine, deep in the mists of the forest, and that it was magic, and it could take them away from the stifling drudgery of the abbey. They could be free. Free to be whoever they wanted, free to live as they saw fit. A promise was made. They would not be chained to the lives that had been planned for them. They would face the dangers of the forests together.

On the appointed evening, when the settlement was still and quiet, the two had snuck out of the gate, easily avoiding the half-asleep guard on duty. Privately, she often had wondered at the necessity of the walls, and the guards. The abbey was near the edge of the forest, but she had never seen anything of note come out. The stories of dark things in the forest, she had decided, were just stories. They warned her away from the forest, she thought, to keep her cloistered. It was not long into their flight into the woods, however, that she had to confront the fact that she had been deeply mistaken.

It was a giant beast, all horns and fangs and fire, and it wielded a massive hammer with frightening ease. “Run,” her friend had whispered. “Run!” But she had not run. She knew with a certainty that if they both ran, neither of them would escape, and she made her choice. She wasn’t a fighter, she wasn’t anything else but a teenage girl, in far over her head and running away with her best friend for – well, she didn’t know yet, or perhaps more accurately, she did know and hadn’t yet faced that particular fact. In that moment, however, she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt. She had turned to face the monster, armed with little more than a stout tree-limb she picked up from the ground, dressed in nothing but her simple tunic.  
“Go!” she had shouted. “I’ll catch up, I promise!” A second promise made, but unkept, of course. She was such a fool. Her friend turned and ran. She turned back to face the beast. It was hot, so very hot. She thought her clothes were going to catch flame before she even had a chance to swing her improvised club. “Come on then,” she yelled. “I won’t let you harm—” 

Her words were cut off by a massive roar from the beast. Its breath was like a furnace blast, and this time her clothes did ignite. She screamed and lunged forward, desperate to distract this demon until her friend got away. Her club ignited in the air as she swung it as hard as she could at the demon’s face, scoring a hit on its massive snout. It roared again and she felt her hair ignite next, silver-blonde locks turning to orange flame. Her flesh scorched, she swung again, but this time she missed wide, and the club fell from blackened hands that no longer obeyed her commands. She fell to her knees, choking and gasping for air. Through the smoke and flames, she couldn’t even see as the demon’s great-hammer descended and smote her to the ground. And then, nothing, only the darkness of oblivion.

She felt herself melting into the dark, becoming one with it. If this was the end, it was peaceful, at least. Her entire sense of self was slowly fading into the nothingness: her cares, her worries, her memories. Then, as from a great distance, she heard a bell. Suddenly she was no longer adrift. The bell continued to toll, getting louder, and she felt herself taking form once again. Then, as suddenly as it had started, the bell went silent, and her eyes opened on the sky, clouds skittering across an otherwise blue sky. She reached up and grasped the sides of – of what? A grave? A sarcophagus? She put the thought to one side, distracted by the sight of her own arms, no longer burned and blackened but whole again. She pulled herself up and looked around. 

Ah. A graveyard. Of course. Some force compelled her to stand up and take stock of herself and her surroundings. She was dressed in tattered rags that afforded her a little dignity, but not much. In the sarcophagus – her coffin, she thought, strangely detached from the concept of her own death – she found little else. A blackened, fire-scorched club – her club, she decided lay next to where she had formerly been. She picked it up and gave it an experimental swing. It felt… good. Correct. There was little else to see, but as she began to turn away, a small glimmer caught her eye. A small ring, unadorned save for a small red stone. She reached for it, and suddenly, remembered. She remembered her fight with the demon, she remembered going into the woods with… someone. A friend, she thought. She couldn’t remember anything else about it, not even her friend’s face. Just a warm feeling, the knowledge that whoever it was, she had cared for them very much. She slipped on the ring and stepped out of the sarcophagus, nearly tripping over a curiously glowing flask. Instinctually, she picked it up. A ragged pouch was also on the ground, and she took that as well, belting it around her waist and placing the flask into it. She looked around, taking in her surroundings, realizing slowly that she had no idea where she was. She was alone in a graveyard, and she was almost certain that she had just been dead. Absent-mindedly, she ran a hand through her hair, pleasantly surprised to find that it was there and not burned away. She sighed, and a small cloud of ash floated out of her mouth and drifted lazily down a ragged, overgrown path. Taking it as a sign, and having no idea where else to start, she hefted the club to her shoulder and began to walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so that's the first bit and it's entirely possible that I'll come back and clean things up or move them around or... hey look the flow of time is weird in this place so who knows how things will stand a week or a month from now.
> 
> If you made it through, hey, cool, thanks! I really appreciate it. Dunno how much traffic this particular fandom draws but as Marcus Fenix once said "I ain't doin' this for you."
> 
> Yes, I'm aware Mr. Fenix does not factor into Dark Souls, just let me have this.


	2. How a Resurrection Really Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hero discovers an unknown power and fails to learn to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep these little chapters pretty short and ended up having to change how this one ended in order to not go on and on and on.

She had no idea how long she’d been dead. She only knew that in the time that had passed since she had passed, the world had clearly gone to hell. Or, at least, she assumed it had gone to hell. Every memory she had was hazy, and some memories that she had felt as if they came from somewhere else. She felt as if she had been wandering the graveyard forever, and had once thought she’d found an exit, but it turned out to be a dead end – a dead end where a gigantic reptilian beast covered in glowing blue crystals had apparently taken up residence. She and the beast had regarded one another from a respectful distance, and both had decided to leave well enough alone.

As she brought her club down on the skull of yet another shambling villager – hollows, they were called hollows, a voice that was not hers echoed in her mind – she reflected on the fact that she still didn’t know where she was going, or how she had been resurrected, or perhaps most importantly _why_ she had been brought back. She kicked the now-still body of her most recent assailant over and gave a quick once-over, looking for anything of use to her. Mostly, they only ever had rags of their own and broken weapons, but one of them had been carrying a buckler and another a few pots of alchemical fire, so she had made it a habit to always check. She pressed onward, following a path that seemed to wend upward towards an inviting-looking archway. All that stood between her and a change of scenery was another half-dozen hollowed-out soldiers. She gave another sigh and watched as another small cloud of ash floated lazily up the hill. She hefted her club in both hands, concentrated, and charged.

The hollows were caught unaware, and the first fell easily to a downward strike that drove his helmet into whatever was left of his brain. The second was knocked sideways into a wall, head slamming into a jutting stone; he slid slowly into a heap on the ground. The third hollow had enough sense left to mount an offensive, charging with a guttural cry, dagger raised in the air. She caught his downward strike on her buckler and brought the club up in a mighty swing, launching her foe into the air. She reversed momentum and swung the club downwards, driving him into the ground. The fourth and fifth hollows slumped to the ground as if in surrender, but she had learned very quickly to not trust the mindless hollows to stay passive, so she ensured they would not get back up. She turned at the sound of the sixth hollow approaching, but not fast enough. The hollow gave a howl of triumph as his blade sunk into her right shoulder, but the howl trailed off into a gurgle as she swung around with her shield hand and gripped him by the throat. Her steel-grey eyes flared, and the hollow began to smoke and writhe before its head burst into flames and was annihilated utterly.

She dropped the corpse and stepped back, confused. Had she done that? She had not meant to do that. Did she know how to do that? She couldn’t remember. She could only remember the demon, the flame, and the friend – or the concept of the friend, anyway. An insistent dull throbbing in her arm reminded her of one other thing: the fact that a dagger was sticking out of her right shoulder. She leaned her back against a wall, gripped the blade tightly with her other hand, gritted her teeth, and _pulled_. It was not a pleasant experience. She dropped the dagger and straightened up, moving her damaged arm, testing its limits. She had a sinking feeling that she was not going to be swinging her club very well anytime soon. The rest of her body ached, and she was exhausted. She continued forward, wondering idly whether things would start making sense soon.

The hill was steep, but not insurmountable. As she crested the top, she gasped at the view. The hill terminated at the edge of a cliff, and sprawled out in the distance were mountains that seemed to rise to the sky. A dense forest grew below, and the hint of settlements, a castle, perhaps, and the promise of a lot more walking. She scanned the horizon, looking for something, anything that she recognized, anything that might orient her or trigger another memory. There was nothing. She was utterly lost, brought back to life and set adrift, and for the first time she allowed herself to think that whomever she had been, she was now someone else, and her past was still buried in the sarcophagus out of which she had risen. Her injured shoulder throbbed with pain and she dropped her head, feeling defeated. That was when she saw it: a small cairn built of bones, piled about a sword. She turned her head to one side, curious.

 _Light the fire._ The thought intruded on her mind, its origin a mystery. She lifted her hand and reached out to touch the hilt of the sword and felt a pulse of energy as a flame sprang to life, burrowing up through the center of the cairn and enveloping the sword.

 _Rest a while,_ the rogue thought suggested. She sat down and stared into the flame, hypnotized for how long, she did not know. There was another pulse of energy and she felt the weariness fall from her body, the wound in her shoulder seal shut.

 _Onward,_ she thought. She stood and began to continue along the path. A short while and several more hollows defeated later, she came to another stone archway. Stepping through, she found herself in the ruins of what might have been a colosseum at some point, or perhaps some kind of amphitheater. Whatever it might have been before, now it was just a large circular space, with one side crumbling away to nothing but a cliff. Directly across from the entrance was a set of giant wooden doors, currently shut. And in the center of the space was a giant statue of a kneeling warrior. She approached it, curious. A halberd was in the statue’s hand, and a coiled sword was plunged into its chest. As she got closer, she saw that a name had been carved into the pedestal, almost faded: Iudex Gundyr. Her eyes traveled to the sword. Something about it seemed wrong. Dark tendrils of viscous fluid seemed to grow from within and wrap around the back of the statue. She began to slowly back away; everything about the statue seemed like a trap.

 _TAKE THE SWORD._ The thought crashed into her mind like a battering ram and she nearly staggered. She looked at the sword: it shouldn’t be there; it belongs somewhere else. She wanted – needed – to take it there. Her hand stretched towards it and she took a purposeful step forward. She wavered, confused. It was wrong, she needed to get away from this statue and this sword and find out where she was and why she was and whether someone could help her remember something, anything, and – _TAKE THE SWORD_ , her mind thundered. She stepped forward, grabbed the hilt with both hands, and pulled with all her might.

The sword slid out of the giant’s chest more easily than she had anticipated, and she staggered back and almost fell flat on her back. She hefted the sword in her hand, admiring its intricate design, the way that its blade – multiple blades, so far as she could tell – spiraled together to form a point. It was probably useless as a weapon, she mused, but now that she held it, she felt complete. It was as if she’d found a piece of her that had been missing, although the more she looked at the sword, the more she became convinced that she had never seen it in her lives, either this one or her previous one.

She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of creaking metal. She looked up to discover that the giant statue was no longer kneeling and was in fact looking at her with blazing red eyes. She had just enough time to register surprise as the giant metal man reared back and kicked her across the arena and over the cliff. She did not survive the fall. As she hit the ground, her body exploded into a cloud of ash.

Back on the hill overlooking the cliffside, the bonfire flared to life and she shot out of the flames, dazed, shaking, and once again whole. She looked around; she had her clothes, and her club, and her buckler, and her pouch that contained a few crude firebombs and the glowing flask that she had found next to her grave. The sword, however, was nowhere to be found, and she knew, deep in her aching bones she knew, she had to get it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so first let me say that I am bad at writing combat, which is a great thing to admit when you're writing in a world where one of the only things to do is fight. If I'm being honest, I am going to have to take a little time to get this Iudex Gundyr fight reading the way I want it to, but I also get real discouraged when I don't have something to put up here, so you get this and I get to feel good and then I get to kill myself trying to write an interesting encounter.
> 
> Or I will get distracted by another idea and write something else. Who can say? Not me, baby. Not me.
> 
> The real answer is, of course, that I will post this chapter, find something I don't like about it, change it, post it, find something else, change it, post it again, find something else, &c &c &c.


	3. Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fierce good fight and a change in perspective.

She did not understand anything that was happening. She did not know how she had been falling one moment and sitting at the bonfire the next. She did not know why the bodies of the hollows that she left behind on her way to the colosseum appeared to be up and about again. All she knew was that she needed the sword back, needed it in her very soul. She did not know why, but she knew what was ahead of her. She stood, gripped her club, and started back towards the ruined arena.

The first hollow was wandering down the path towards her in an apparent daze, dragging a long sword behind him. His passive nature disappeared as soon as he saw her striding in his direction, all confidence and twirling her club. The hollow raised his sword and charged with a guttural howl. She waited until he was almost upon her before jumping neatly to the side. His sword swung down and clanged off the rocky wall. He turned his sightless – could hollows see if they no longer had eyes? – gaze towards her, and had he his sight still, would have only seen a gnarled log hurtling towards his face. Caught quite literally between a rock and a hard place, the hollow’s head was crushed. She moved on.

The path that she was walking on had seen better days, and at a certain point changed elevation at a rate that was best described as a drop. The entire landscape felt like it had been shaken up and moved about, and she did a lot of jumping down to continue forward. She stopped at the precipice of another drop and peered over. There was another hollow, waiting for her to come around the bend. Instead, she fell upon him from above, using the momentum of her fall to accelerate her club downward, caving the hollow’s head down into his chest. Had she not been so focused on her goal she might have thought it was incredibly gross.

She walked with purpose, strangely confident. A flaming crossbow bolt shot towards her, and she dodged it easily, breaking into a sprint. The final hollow standing between her and the sword fumbled as he tried to load another bolt, but she was on him before he could even pull the bowstring back. He crumpled to the ground, and she stood, framed in the archway, staring into the arena.

Iudex Gundyr stared back. There was no anger in his eyes, no real emotion at all. The strange, black substance still curled out from within his chest and around his back, and he hefted an impossibly large halberd, and simply nodded at her. It was enough. She charged, and she leapt into the air, and she swung downward with all her might. Gundyr was ready for it. He had begun charging as soon as she had and was bringing his halberd down in a double-handed swing as soon as she had launched into the air. The force as their two weapons met in midair knocked her clean out of the air and she landed on her back, hard. She tensed, expecting to feel the halberd drive her into the ground, but saw that Gundyr had also been thrown off balance. Scrambling to her feet, she began to circle warily, forcing herself to be patient, waiting for Iudex to make the next move.

The metal man dashed forward with frightening speed, lowering his shoulder, trying to knock her back down, but she was ready this time and leapt to one side as he went past, swinging her club as she went and scoring a solid hit on his back. Hoping to press the advantage, she went for another strike, but he turned impossibly fast and caught her in the chest with the shaft of his halberd. She went skidding back again, but kept her balance this time, even as she felt two of her ribs crack. Gundyr did not give her time to recover and brought the halberd around in a wide sweep that she barely managed to avoid, diving out of the way and rolling into a crouch. She darted in and swung, scoring another solid hit to his side. He staggered and she drove in, striking again and again before she caught a massive iron-shod boot to the hip that sent her flying. She landed in a heap and rolled to the side just in time to avoid a massive downward swing from Gundyr’s halberd that scored the stones and sent sparks flying into the air. As she rose to her feet once again, acutely aware of her own exhaustion, she saw Iudex charge again and barely avoided another wide sweep of the halberd. The momentum of his own swing spun Gundyr around and she saw an opening.

She gave a fierce shout and drove her club down onto his head. Iudex staggered and fell to one knee. She swung again, and again, and again, and still he did not fall to the ground. Instead, he pushed her back and managed to stagger to his feet. He swayed, unsteady, and then doubled over, as if in pain. She hesitated. He turned his eyes to hers, and there was something new there, something pleading. She took a cautious step forward… and then the darkness within Iudex Gundyr _erupted_.

A massive, serpent-like _thing_ now wrapped around Iudex Gundyr, red-eyed, long-clawed, and seething with rage. It planted a claw in the ground, and she saw the claws sink into the stone as the beast used this fulcrum to launch itself through the air and come crashing down on top of her. She barely managed to avoid being crushed into the ground and scrambled back to her feet, gripping the club in both hands now, her mind racing. The serpent’s tail – Iudex had a massive tail, now – swung around and sent her flying again, she in one direction and her club in another. She willed herself back up off the ground and stared at the serpent as it rose higher, blotting out the sky, opening its mouth to reveal a glowing purple mass inside. She knew that it was going to devour her, knew that it would swallow her whole and she would disappear entirely, knew that – _Flame_ , the voice in her head said, _dear flame._ Her hand flew into the pouch at her side and pulled out the pots of alchemical fire. They were bound loosely together with twine, and she began slowly swinging them in a circle, waiting for the beast to strike.

The serpent’s mouth opened wide, wider than anything should, wider than her mind was willing to accept, and dove down to consume her. She heaved the pots into the void, heard the clay pots shatter somewhere within, saw the flames belch and grow. The serpent gave a scream and blew apart at the neck, sending inky, liquid darkness everywhere. She watched as it _withdrew_ , somehow, shrinking and folding and retreating into the chest of Iudex Gundyr, who fell once again to one knee. The light in Iudex’s eyes flickered and began to fade.

“My… thanks…” The words came from Iudex and caught her off guard. His voice was old and sounded like rusted metal. He nodded in her direction, as if to emphasize his words, then toppled over and was still. She stood, chest heaving, exhausted, and turned to retrieve her club. Then, she saw it: there, where she had first found Gundyr kneeling in a stone circle, was the coiled sword. She changed direction and knelt to retrieve it. As her hand closed about the hilt, there was a rush of wind from behind her and she turned, half-expecting Iudex Gundyr to rise to fight her again, but instead she watched as his body and armor began to fade into nothing. She saw something rise into the air, an ethereal fire in the shape of a winged bird that turned and dove straight for her. She had no time to react before it was upon her, burrowing into her chest. She staggered back, expecting pain. Instead, a warmth radiated outward from her chest. The exhaustion fell from her limbs. She breathed out, slowly, and this time there was no ash. There was only a pleasant-feeling heat. She ripped a strip of cloth from her rags and tied it around the sword, slinging it across her back. She strode forward to the set of intricately carved doors that stood between her and – actually, she had no idea what they were keeping her from, but she felt an urge to find out.

She pushed against the doors, testing. The doors groaned slightly but otherwise held firm. She put her whole weight behind her efforts, and slowly, as if in protest or masking load times, the doors swung open. She was greeted with the sight of more cliffs, more ruins, more graves, and a slightly less-ruined looking building at the top of the hill. Something itched in the back of her mind, another lost memory fighting and failing to make an impression. She felt drawn towards that building – a temple, maybe, or a shrine? The word “abbey” floated through her consciousness and she waved it aside, focusing now on the path before her and the handful of hollows that stood in her way. One of them had a spear, one of them was a dog, none of them proved to be of any concern, in the end. She approached the entryway to the shrine – somewhere during her fight up the hill she had decided it was a shrine – and stepped across the threshold.

*

The Fire Keeper sat in darkness; her eyes occluded by a ceremonial mask affixed to her face. She could not see, not really, but she could discern carriers of the flame. They stood out against the darkness, orange flickers in vaguely humanoid shape. Her sense of hearing, however, was excellent, and she heard the new arrival step into the shrine before she saw the tell-tale flicker of flame in her vision. She was used to seeing travelers pass through and did not begrudge them the use of the shrine as a place to rest while on the road. Most of them she could see only as a dim flicker, some flared with more power than others. One, a blacksmith who had taken up residence deeper within, she could not bear to look at for too long. He shone with an incredible flame, and she did not know why he chose to stay in the Shrine. She did not ask questions.

The Fire Keeper regarded the flame of the new arrival, tilting her head with some interest. Here was a strong flame, one with potential. The brightness of the flame allowed her to see the outline of the coiled sword slung across the traveler’s shoulder. Well, well, she thought, it was about time that the Ashen One appeared. She had heard the bell, knew what it meant. She watched the flame approach her, could tell that the Ashen One was looking around, trying to make sense of it all. The Fire Keeper watched and waited. Quite suddenly, she _felt_ the Ashen One look at her. The flame took on a vague shape, two small blue cores blazing out of where the Ashen One’s face would be. A memory tugged at the back of her mind, a memory of laughing blue eyes and long blonde hair, of fire and ruin. She shook her head, as if to toss the memory aside. Dwelling on the past, she knew, only brought her sorrow. She took a breath and began to recite the words that she had been made to memorize in preparation for this day.

“Welcome to the bonfire, Unkindled One. I am a Fire Keeper. I tend to the flame, and—” She was cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around her, lifting her in the air. This part, she had not been taught about. “What the—what in the name of Gwyn’s Firstborn are you...?” She felt the Ashen One – Unkindled is what she was taught, but the cranky old Shrine Handmaid insisted that Ashen One was the proper title – hesitate and then set her carefully back down on the ground. Their flame seemed brighter, somehow. She smoothed her robes and tried to continue her speech. “The Lords have left their thrones and must be deliver’d to them. To this end, I am at thy side.” She waited for some sign of acknowledgment from the Ashen One before continuing, “Ashen one, produce the coiled sword at the bonfire,” and here she gestured toward the pile of bones in the middle of the room. “The mark of ash will guide thee to the land of the Lords; to Lothric, where the homes of the Lords converge.” She sighed, satisfied that she had managed to say what needed to be said despite – despite whatever that was.

She stepped back and waited. The Ashen One, so far as she could tell, was making no move to produce anything anywhere. The Fire Keeper coughed politely, and that was when she heard it: a quiet, almost imperceptible sobbing. The Ashen One’s flame wavered in her view, and she realized that the Ashen One, the being that she had been trained to aid, guide, and strengthen so that they could rekindle the First Flame and save the world, was silently weeping in front of her. “Hey, hey, it’s… it’s okay,” she heard herself saying, stepping towards the Ashen One. “I know, it’s a lot, and it doesn’t make sense, but I’m here to help.” She reached out and took the Ashen One’s hand. “You have this new power, and you don’t know what to do with it, and,” she swallowed, hesitant, “I can show you how it works.” She slowly drew the hand towards her chest. “Touch the darkness within me,” she intoned, and pressed the hand to her sternum.

*

The Ashen One had entered the shrine – Firelink Shrine, she would eventually learn – and half-expected to continue fighting hollow soldiers, villagers, and whatever else may have taken up residence in the shrine during this strange apocalypse. She had descended the tall stairs, walking by a slumped over knight who did not seem in any mood to talk, drawn toward the center of the room where a firepit had been constructed. No fire was lit, only a pile of bones and fragments. Then she saw her: short, dark hair, clad in what looked to be a ceremonial robe, a… tail? A tail, swaying back and forth. A mask covering eyes that somehow, the Ashen One knew to be one yellow, one blue. The woman began to talk, clearly having expected her. The Ashen One froze, the voice sounding too familiar, the form too familiar, the face too familiar.

She could not remember anything, but she never forgot her first death. She had died to save her friend, her friend who she couldn’t remember, couldn’t remember a name or a face or anything beyond a feeling. An impulse drove her forward, and before she knew what she was doing she had swept the Fire Keeper – the woman had said she was the Fire Keeper and had called her Ashen One – off her feet into a hug and for a moment, for one incredible moment she felt like she _remembered_.

And then she caught herself and put the Fire Keeper down and backed off, shaken. It hurt, remembering hurt. She felt a sob rise in her throat and attempted to force it back down, but she was only partially successful, and the Fire Keeper clearly had heard her, was tilting her head to the side in an achingly familiar way. Suddenly the Fire Keeper was talking again, attempting to calm her down, to reassure her, but she had it all wrong, the Ashen One thought, she didn’t understand, and then the Fire Keeper had held her hand, had drawn her in, her voice dropping lower and before the Ashen One could pull away she had said the words and pressed the Ashen One’s hand to her chest.

And then, they both remembered _everything_.

*

_“Come on, do you really want to stay here forever? Become a Fire Keeper, tend the bonfire and wait for some dusty old bag of bones to show up to save the world or whatever?” The young magicat scowled._

_“It’s our duty,” the blonde girl responded. “It’s, y’know, destiny or whatever.”_

_“Destiny? Who cares about that?” She leaned in close. “Come on, Adora. Don’t you want something else for yourself?”_

_Adora blushed and turned away, flustered. There was something that she wanted for herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Instead, she settled for “Catra, where would we even go?”_

_Catra’s tail whipped back and forth with excitement. “Well, I heard that there’s this shrine…” The two talked far into the night, eventually making a plan. It didn’t go well._

*

“Catra?” It was the first word she had spoken since her resurrection. “Catra, is it really you?”

Tears seeped from the bottom of the mask as the Fire Keeper brought her hand to the Ashen One’s face., tracing its shape as she smiled that smile that the Ashen One remembered now, the smile that had always set her heart jumping, that kindled a warmth that spread through her entire body.

“Hey, Adora.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PRESTIGE!
> 
> No, seriously, this just kinda happened and I got real into writing the fight and then I got real into some other stuff and, well, now we're here. Well and truly in it now.
> 
> This is, well, this is as far ahead as I've planned. I might leave it like this, honestly, and move onto something else. Maybe not, though. Maybe not.
> 
> We'll see.

**Author's Note:**

> All right so after some thought, I think I might leave this one where it is. I got some other ideas I'm gonna work on, but. But! For a first try I am pretty content.


End file.
